


How the Other Side Lives

by Tenoko1



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Dean/Cas, Best Friends, Epic Friendship, Fix-It, Multi, case!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenoko1/pseuds/Tenoko1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe God doesn’t always answer prayers, and maybe the Apocalypse nearly happening without him stepping into stop it had been really bad, but it’s becoming clear that things always work out, even if they don’t work out the way you wanted or expected them to, they work out the way you NEEDED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Characters/Pairings: Becky Rosen, Charlie Bradbury, eventual Sarah Blake, mentioned Winchesters, and background Dean/Cas.  
> Warnings: fix-it fic in a lot of ways, you’ll see why. Some angst. Case!fic.  
> AN: Personal headcanon that got away from me.  
> Spoilers: Starts after 8.16 with references throughout series. Will possibly fold in new episodes as they air.

            When she met Sam in Vegas, she took it as a sign. She’d needed a sign, desperately, had been PRAYING for a sign, and then just like that: she had turned around and Sam Winchester had been right there.

            Her parents had both been killed in a car accident and she’d come to Vegas in order to spread their ashes per their request. The day of the funeral, dressed in black from head to toe and a complete hole in her heart that she had lost the only family she had left, she’d gotten the invitation in the mail. The invitation to her high school reunion, to a place and a time filled with people and memories she didn’t ever want to have to think about ever again.

            She and her mom had talked about it, actually, only a few weeks before, that the time had to be coming up and whether or not Becky would go. Her mom had wanted her to, to show that she was doing well despite what everyone there had ever said about her, all the years of solitude she had suffered through in those walls, the bullying and loneliness that left her sobbing in her mother’s arms wondering what was so wrong with her that she couldn’t even find a single person to be friends with.

            Even other outcasts wouldn’t befriend her for fear of being targeted by those same bullies. The people that were nice to her were only nice for as long as it took to get whatever it was they wanted from Becky, whether it be a laugh or a homework assignment. When other people were out with friends or at parties, Becky became friends with her parents instead, a weekly movie night where she actually did have fun, even if it wasn’t what she wanted.

            Then her parents were killed and she was facing down a reunion with those same awful, fake people who were nice-nasty and as cruel as any of the demons Sam and Dean had ever encountered. A reunion where she was suppose to talk about what all in her life had changed and how well things were going for her, and what did she have? Really? Her only family was now dead. Her mom who had been her best friend was dead. Her boyfriend, the famous author, dumped her with no real explanation as to why, and she had a job she was good at but absolutely hated with every fiber of her being and a boss that was a complete bitch to her.

            Great job. A real success. Way to go, Becky, you really showed them.

            She’d complained about this much in passing to Guy, the cute, albeit incredibly gay guy she’d met in the book store, only joking when she told him she wished life could be more fairy tale like, that she could have a Cinderella moment, so that for one night she could pretend her life wasn’t absolute crap, and could put on an act for one night to go to the reunion, show up with a Prince Charming on her arm and show everyone there that she wasn’t as pathetic as she knew she was. One night, a dream.

            She hadn’t known he was a Wiccan, certainly hadn’t know he’d turn out to be a demon, she’d just been saying the truth out loud so she wouldn’t end up screaming. He’d only offered her the thing she asked for, that he could give her the one night, a guy to actually truly care about her to take her to the reunion, to rub it in the faces of everyone who ever mocked her, which, let’s face it, was everyone in the school. Then, like Cinderella, it would be over. Her life would go back to normal, she would have proved them all wrong, and maybe in doing that, it would make the still fresh loss of her parents not hurt quite so much. She had no one else, now.

            She’d thought God was answering her prayers, showing mercy, that he was giving her a sign that she could rise above what her life had become and that she could fix it. She needed to fix it. For this to go perfect, for something to be perfect for once until this hole no longer felt like it was consuming her, until she didn’t feel so achingly lonely anymore.

            If she had been in the car with her parents during the crash… she knew the world would mourn for them, but she could think of no one that would actually mourn for her, and that hurt so much. To be invisible in her grief, to have no one to comfort her, to not have a friend to wrap their arms around her and tell her that she would get through it, that she would survive.

            She had the Cinderella potion with her when she’d gone to Vegas to spread her parent’s ashes. When she first saw Sam, she thought he was a figment of her imagination, a mirage. Then she thought God really was answering her prayers, because what could be a more perfect solution to her current dilemma than the very guy of her dreams. She’d have actually been thrilled to have run into Chuck again, for him to be her date, and for the two of them to reconcile and get back together now that the Apocalypse was over. That could have been her happy ending, a happy ending that didn’t need the Cinderella potion.

            Sam’s appearance in her life was a sign, it had to be a sign, please God, let him be a sign that I don’t have to go through this on my own and that my life will get better.

            It, of course, had been a complete disaster. In her grief and desperation for something to cling to, her head got all turned around and like she wasn’t even in control of her own actions. She could see what she was doing, but it was like she also had no control over it and couldn’t stop herself.

            Sam _had_ been her salvation, though. He might have wanted her dead after this last time, but her desperate actions made her realize she couldn’t go through this alone, that things had to change or else it would destroy Becky.

            Grief counseling had done wonders for her. Then basic counseling, helping her deal with her own insecurities and learn how to interact more normally with other people despite her deeply ingrained insecurities that came from a lifetime of being the butt of other people’s jokes, from meeting people that befriended you with the sole goal of being able to stab you in the back later and laugh at your pain.

            Becky was willing to befriend anyone, to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. It was just the way she was, and she knew well enough never to judge someone by first appearance. She was a perfect example, really. So were Dean and Sam. She was actually smart and completely loyal; people never saw past the socially awkward and insecure part, though. She would make an excellent friend for someone, if only someone would be an excellent friend for her. Someone to really like her for her.

            So, she decided if she was going to break free of old patterns and her old life and move on, she really had to do a complete turn over. She moved to a new town, got a new job, a new apartment. She was settling in, still going to counseling, and reading books that would help her become a better person.

When the first package arrived on her doorstep, she’d thought it was from Chuck. It was weird, because they hadn’t spoken since they broke up, and the books had stopped being published with _Swan Song_. In the package had been a series of manuscripts, of Winchester Gospels. Winchesters Gospels that took place _after_ Swan Song, books that weren’t even published.

She hadn’t even known what to do with the books. She designed her own covers and had them bound together each time a new one arrived, clearing space on her shelves next to the others so that the collection remained complete. She even got in touch with the publishers about continuing to produce the books. The most recent books had come with a letter explaining that the world needed these books. Well, okay. She didn’t know why Chuck wasn’t getting them published himself since he was the writer, but he’d weirdly enough written himself _out_ of the books in Swan Song, maybe because it was too meta for the author to do a self-insert, even if it were true.

She knew getting sucked back up into Supernatural would be unhealthy for her though, a way to backslide back into her old patterns and bad memories and no, no, no. Other hobbies were suggested to her, other fandoms.

It was how she met Charlie, actually, at an outdoor screening of the _Avengers_ movie. Charlie Bradbury, a red-headed tech girl with a love for all sorts of great fandoms, really, ranging from TV and movies to computers to books, comics, and games. And she _liked_ Becky, like, really liked her, they got on like a house on fire. And it was while they were out perusing an arts and crafts show with frozen coffees that Becky realized with a start that she had a friend.

Like, an actual for real _friend_. They had movie nights and met each other on their lunch breaks at the little deli between their workplaces. They hung out and talked and laughed and joked and… and suddenly Becky had someone in her life that would miss her if she were suddenly gone.

God, Sam really had been sent to her to help turn her life around, just not the way she had expected. He may hate her, but she couldn’t thank him enough, even if she would never see him again.

She also couldn’t wait to get to the books that followed the Winchesters current adventures, at present the books were still only taking place during the civil war in Heaven and Cas’ ill-conceived alliance with Crowley, which was so totally not gonna end well, she could tell you that right away. And she was pretty sure she remembered the news reports of the really hot guy showing up to cause miracles and smite the wicked before the reports had just died off. She had a lot of catching up to do as far as their story went.

She hoped getting the books meant that they were still alive. Hopefully, Dean and Castiel had made up as well. While, in her heart of hearts, she still shipped the Sam and Dean from the book verse, when she thought of them as fictional characters, she also thought that maybe, if Dean were ever going to get a happy ending, it might very well be in the very last place he expected to find it: with an angel.

She liked that she was able to see the books in two lights: both as fiction and non-fiction. She could ship Sam and Dean in her head the way she wanted to see them and how she imagined they would act, while in reality, well, having met them, she knew she had a better chance of ending up with Sam than Sam and Dean had of ending up with each other. She really thought Dean and Cas could be together, if only they would realize how they felt about the other. If they survived the civil war and betrayal and all.

It had actually even been kind of amazing when Charlie had stayed for the weekend over at Becky’s during a snowstorm that kept them away from work, when Charlie had discovered Becky’s collection of Supernatural books, and for once, it was Becky introducing Charlie to something that the red-head seemed oddly fascinated with. Becky never would have taken Charlie for a fan of those type books, but the techie had a very broad range of interests and likes, and hey, the more fans of the series the better, especially now that the books were going to be printed again, thanks to Becky.

Not that she’d told Charlie about that, it would be hard to explain, what with the books being mysteriously delivered to her door and all.

“Can I borrow these?” Charlie had questioned, indicating the stack of books with her head as her fingers flew over the keys of her laptop. “I’m ordering my own copies, but in the meantime till they get here?”

Becky shrugged, happy to comply. “Yeah, sure. You can even read them while you’re here.” She motioned to the apartment around them. “The power’s down and the generator is only powering the kitchen right now, so reading is an awesome way to pass the time if you want.” A shrug. “I haven’t read the latest ones yet, actually.”

Like, not even kidding, Charlie up and ordered ALL the books right then and there with this maniacal grin on her face like she had hit the jackpot. Becky didn’t really get why she was so excited, but hey, new fandoms were always new and exciting, right?

They spent the weekend curled on opposite ends of Becky’s couch reading _Supernatural_ , and actually, it was a lot nicer than Becky ever thought it could be. To be apart of _Supernatural_ again, with some one else, go figure, and to enjoy it strictly as fans, rather than, y’know, knowing that all these stories were actually true.

Becky was just glad her full name had never been used in the books, just her first name. Becky was a common enough name. She’d known a Katie Bell, but that didn’t mean the girl went to Hogwarts.

Winter became Spring and it probably shouldn’t have surprised Becky that Charlie would be an immediate and hardcore Dean/Cas shipper rather than a Sam/Dean girl. Like, she was a maniacal shipper. It almost seemed to pain Charlie that she was unable to give Dean crap about his interactions with the angel.

“Omigawd,” the red head gasped. Becky glanced up from where she was painting a canvas to decorate a particular spot on her wall. “He’s gonna get so much crap for this,” Charlie declared.

Becky glanced to see which book she was reading. “Who is? About what?”

“Dean. All this blatant flirting with Cas. All the eye sex. I mean _really_. Omigawd, you. Just. Wait. He’s never gonna hear the end of it.”

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Becky returned to her painting, carefully outlining the owl in the corner. “Actually, Dean doesn’t get called on it much,” she told her. “It gets brought up, occasionally poked fun at, but never really in seriousness. It’s always mentioned in passing, but they haven’t been forced to actually focus on what’s between them and give it a name. Even after they’ve been friends for how long?”

“Seven years,” Charlie answered absently, her focus already on the book in her hands.

Becky looked up sharply, blinking rapidly. Charlie seemed to realize her own mistake and barked out a laugh.

“Listen to me. Seven years. Ha! Where’d I get that number? God, I can’t brain today.” She placed a bookmark in the pages and rose from the couch. “I need more coffee.”

The blonde watched the other female make her way into the kitchen, internally doing that math herself. If the boys were still alive, and Dean and Cas were still friends, Charlie’s sleep-addled math actually wasn’t far off the mark. God, had they really been friends that long? Wow, now that she thought about it, after that long, yeah, they really needed to get their heads out of their asses and get together if they hadn’t already.

God, she really wanted the more current books to get to her quickly so she could read the stories taking place currently rather than what happened a few years back.

When Becky came back to sit on the couch, she got into a heated text conversation with someone that left her grinning like the Cheshire Cat, occasionally commenting out loud with scoffs and snorts.

“Who’s that?” the blonde asked, setting her paintbrush aside.

“My handmaiden,” answered the red-head simply, causing Becky to blink with a start and frown in confusion. Charlie waved a hand dismissively. “It’s a joke. Friend of mine that ended up going to a LARP event with me one weekend. They ended up being my hand-maiden while they were there, so we could stick together.”

Charlie nodded. “Oh, you told me about that. Moondoor, right?”

“Still reigning queen, bitches.” They both laughed.

It was definitely a sign from God she was getting. Or signs. There was no other way to explain her life anymore other than divine steering. Why God would chose to take an active role in one miserable fangirl’s life, she had no idea, but there really was no way to explain the complete turn around she’d gone through. Yes, the grief counseling and further counseling had done her wonders, but seriously, mysterious packages containing the Winchester gospels being delivered to her and for her to actually succeed in getting them published? For her to now have this AMAZING friend who would rip someone a new one if they got rude with Becky in her presence?

It had to be divine intervention. She had no idea how or why, but that was what she was chalking it up as, and considering she had met the heroes of the world and dated a Prophet of the Lord, it was hardly the craziest thing she’d ever heard happen.

~*~

The next package of manuscripts came with manilla envelope filled with newspaper clippings and some printouts. A series of victims across the U.S. that finally led to her town, the connection being linked to a traveling historical display, and one of the items that had to be in it.

It was a job. As in, a Sam and Dean Winchester-type job.

But, holy shit, how was she suppose to get it to them, and God knew she was the LAST person on the face of the planet they would ever want to see after what happened last time, not that she could explain, not that they would ever think she was anything other than a freak. She knew they thought so, and God, did that hurt, especially when she held them in such high regard, even Dean, but she also understood why, too. They never got to see past the fangirl, past the obsessed freak out of touch with reality. Forgive her if the first time they’d met it had been right after she’d found out her absolute favorite book series and it’s characters was real.

Sam would be excited, too, if he met Harry Potter! Then, there had been the Supernatural convention, and really, she had thought she was doing a good thing, that it would be nice for the boys to see how many fans they had and that there were people cheering them on, even if they didn’t actually know they were real. And then that last time… God, that had been a disaster. Talk about not coping with loss.

She’d latched onto Sam like he was a life raft keeping her from drowning. Not that he knew the details, he just saw her actions, and yeah, she looked psychotic. It was hard to separate in her head sometimes that despite the fact that she knew the boys’ personalities, cared for them like they were members of her own family, though she was achingly familiar with both of them… they didn’t know her at all. They’d met in brief passing and none of the encounters had done anything to leave a good impression of her in their minds.

So she couldn’t exactly hunt them down now to pass on the job, and God only knew where they were or if they could get there in the time span the exhibit would be in town. Which left her where, exactly? The packages were a sign, a direction her life was suppose to go, a direction that now included a hunt.

She couldn’t even try to hunt down Bobby and pass the hunt on through him. Bobby was an excellent hunter, and she had no doubt if she went to him, even anonymously, that it would lead the boys to her, and well, yeah, that just wasn’t going to happen.

Calling in sick so she could do research on the items in the exhibit had been the only logical solution. She got paid for her work with the books, royalties, so it wasn’t like she was losing money.

Someone had already died since the exhibit got to town. She’d fixed her hair, put on her best dress suit, acquired a fake FBI badge and ID, and then had gone straight to the coroner’s office to fake it like a porn star.

Acting like she knew what the hell she was doing was actually easier than she expected. She’d done well working the case with Sam before, and she had all the books to pull on for what to do in any given situation.

The boys had it easy, really, they could tag team people to get through a situation, alternating bad cop and good cop, puppy dog eyes from Sam, then ‘I don’t have time for your bullshit’ from Dean, or whatever other tactics they needed to get what they wanted. She tried to keep her flirting to a minimal as, let’s face it, it wasn’t her strong point. She could play the hell out of a research assistant sent to retrieve texts for a professor though.

By the time night fell, the hard part came. Reading the books about all of Sam and Dean’s B & E’s was one thing, trying to pull them off yourself was, well, another. She didn’t have their height or body strength, so trying to stealthfully climb in through on open window and then drop quietly to the floor hand landed her in an ungraceful heap, flat on her back and feet in the air, while her head throbbed from where it had acquainted itself with the ground. That settled it, she was getting a gym membership and taking up running. She probably should have already, because you never really knew when the zombie apocalypse was gonna strike, and everyone knew it was the slow ones that got eaten first.

She was dressed in black from head to toe, black cap on to try and hide the blonde of her hair and gloves on to make sure she never left finger prints. She’d started out with a utility belt of sorts for this case, but ended up with a small backpack instead. The boys usually carried a duffel, so her small back purse was fine, right? She looked like a regular cat burglar.

The case actually wasn’t bad, she wouldn’t have to desecrate graves or salt and burn the bones of some poor soul. All she had to do was find the cursed object, a noose in this case, and douse it with salt and holy water, then recite a purging passage over it to break the curse on it. She was okay with this, the college wouldn’t lose any money from the exhibit, the owners of the pieces wouldn’t lose any of the collection they were allowing to go on tour for educational purposes, and once she was finished, people would stop dying simply for having come in contact with the item.

And she did the job like a complete pro. Okay, so there had been a close call when she’d had to get away from the night watchman, er, watch _men_ , and alright, so maybe she’d ended up having to scramble up a tree like scared cat and wait there in the branches until they finally gave up looking for her, but hey! It was nice to know in the case of zombies, her running skills were already pretty decent! And she had gotten the job done, so she was calling this hunt a success… and wondering how the hell Sam and Dean managed to do this all the time when she finally managed to crawl into bed in the wee hours of the morning. They could manage on some four hours of sleep a night regularly. She’d destroy the world herself if she had to do that.

~*~

“You look awfully like the cat that ate the canary today,” Charlie commented at lunch the next day, brow arched. “Circles under your eyes and a pleased smile on that face.” She regarded the blonde as Becky bit back a smile and pushed around her salad with her fork. Charlie let out a scandalized gasp that made Becky meet her eyes again, the other woman leaned forward to whisper, “Becky Rosen! Did you spend your night getting sexed up in a way that would put Dean Winchester to shame?”

The blonde barked with laughter, choking on her drink and nearly spewing it out. “What?! No! Don’t be absurd. I just was wired last night and couldn’t sleep. Ended up going for a jog.”

Charlie sat back in her seat. “You jog?”

“I’m taking it up. You know, in case of zombie apocalypse.”

The red head waved her off. “Have your jogging. I’ll keep my stockpile of authentic replicated weaponry and take my chances. The force is strong with me and I’ve been known to be rather kickass a time or two myself.”

Then something Charlie had said registered with Becky, making her frown and tilt her head to the side. “Wait. You said ‘Dean Winchester’? The boys’ last name isn’t ever given in the books, is it?”

Charlie blinked, her face going blank. “Isn’t it? I know I read it somewhere.” Becky opened her mouth, but Charlie shrugged and waved a hand. “You better not be getting mind blowing, all-night long sex and withholding the details from me, B. Weren’t you taught to share?”

They both laughed then and slipped back into animated conversation as their lunch break continued, the two of them grinning as they talked.

~*~

Things turned bad- and she knew they would, that they had to, as all things in her life always did- a couple of days later at movie night. The pizza had just gotten there, the drinks were ready, and _Star Trek: First Contact_ was waiting for them. Becky was already comfortably on the couch, and Charlie still puttering around the kitchen when someone knocked on the door. Both girls looked, Charlie frowning in confusion.

The red head moved over to look out the eye-peep. Her reaction was weird. She gasped and spun around as if bracing the door closed, a swear coming out as her gaze locked onto where Becky was still sitting on the couch. The blonde moved to stand, worried what was wrong.

“No!” exclaimed Charlie, hand out to stop her best friend. “Everything’s fine, totally fine, just some _friends who never call to warn a person before coming by_!” The last part she said loudly in order to be heard by whoever was on the other side of the door. Someone one the other side said something, a muffled ‘Sorry!’ coming through. Her smiled wobbled nervously on her pale face. “I’ll, uh, just go talk to them and be right back. You can start the movie, if you want.”

She opened the door just enough for her to squeeze through it and out into the hall. Before the door shut, a male voice asked, “We interrupt a date or somethin’?” and Becky missed Charlie’s hissing reply.

She sat on the couch nervously, a bad feeling swimming in the pit of her stomach like the night the cops had called about her parents. She’d known that night, too, that something was wrong, an unease settling over her, she just hadn’t known why until the phone call. Now, something else was wrong, but compulsively, she got up and crossed the apartment to peer through the eye-peek.

A gasp escaped her, hand coming up to cover her mouth. There in the hallway, were Sam and Dean Winchester, talking as easy as you please, to Charlie. Sam and Charlie had their head bent together, going over some paperwork in a file folder, while Dean explained and talked with his hands in low tones.

What the hell was going on? How did _Charlie_ know Dean and Sam? How long had she known them? What the hell was going on and _why were they here?_

Oh God, if they found out she was there, that would be nine circles of Hell-type bad. Or worse still, what if they found out about the books? That they were still getting published and that their favorite person was the one responsible? She knew they had warned Chuck about not publishing the books anymore, which would maybe explain why they were being sent to her if Chuck was the one sending them to her. That way if the boys found out, it led irate Winchesters to her door rather than to the nervous author. Well, that was just a dirty trick!

Becky was leaning against the back of the couch with her arms folded by the time Charlie made her way back into the apartment, folder still in hand. She carefully closed the door behind her so that Becky never got a glimpse of the two men in the hallway, which was probably a good thing considering how less than thrilled the two would be at seeing _her_.

The techie held up the file. “Sorry. They had some things they needed my help with and just wanted to drop this file off for me to take a look at.”

“How exactly do you know Sam and Dean Winchester, like, in reality?” Charlie froze where she stood. Becky shifted. “I mean, has this been some bizarre elaborate prank? It has to be a prank, because how else would _I_ make a kickass friend unless it were a joke that hadn’t come to its completion yet?”

Charlie was blinking rapidly, hand raised as she tried to wrap her head around sudden turn of events. “Wait. What? You know the Winchesters? Like, in reality? For reals? How?”

Becky threw out a hand toward the door. “How else would I know who they are? How do _I_ know them? How do _you_ know them?”

Her friend had drifted closer a handful of steps, utter confusion on her face. “I helped them fight the Leviathans and Dick Roman about a year ago, and then we ran into each other again when they were working a case that lead them to Moondoor. _Dean is my handmaiden!_ ”

“The handmaiden you’re texting all the time?”

“The same! We’re friends now; I help them out. They’re here on a case and wanted me to look into something. B, how do you know them?”

The blonde pointed toward the laden down bookcase against the wall. “I’m the Becky in the books! The only reason I didn’t get cut out of the story was because it was about the Michael Sword and plot relevant! Trust me, the Winchesters and I _aren’t_ friends, after that last fiasco, they probably hate me.”

Charlie seemed even more confused, moving into the kitchen to grab a can of Pepsi, the folder the boys had given her on the counter. “What? Why would they hate you? Why didn’t you tell me you knew them?”

“Would you have believed me? You thought I was just another fan of the books. You’d never even heard of the books before you met me, even though you had met them in real life.”

Charlie nodded her consent at that point. “Valid point is valid, but still, why would they hate you over you getting excited to meet them in real life?”

Sighing heavily, Becky leaned back against the couch tiredly. “I met them again at the first ever Supernatural convention, that plot line didn’t make it into the books because it was broke the fourth wall too much. Then I met them again a few years ago.” She glanced up to meet her friend’s gaze. “Remember how I went to Vegas to spread my parents ashes and ended up married to some guy and then annulling it?”

The red head nodded. “Before you went into grief counseling. You said you both were out of your minds that weekend. Got it annulled once you sobered up.”

A bitter laugh escaped Becky and she dropped her gaze. “Oh we were out of our minds alright. Sam was the guy.” Charlie gasped in shock, and Becky went on to explain the exact details of what really happened that weekend, fidgeting nervously during her confession. “So, yeah, that’s the last they saw of me, and if they saw me again it would be a bad, _bad_ day.”

They were situated on the couch now, legs crossed and facing each other. Brows furrowed together and head angled to the side, Charlie stated, “Yeah, but even they didn’t get the whole story. Sam and Dean have no idea what a bad place you were in. I mean, to them, yeah, you seemed psychotic, no offense, but in reality, you were in a really, really bad place and they kept you alive and got you to seek help after losing the only family you had left. It was bad, sure, but it could have been worse. I’m sure if they knew the full details-“

“NO!” Becky cried out, startling her friend. “You can’t tell them! They can’t know I live in this town, or that we’re friends, hell, they can’t know that _we_ know each other. I’m a memory they’d probably rather not have to think about again, and any connection you have to me will only work to your disadvantage.” She cleared her throat, dropping her gaze. “That time in Vegas wasn’t the end of the things I’ve done they’d be pissed at me about.”

Charlie’s eyebrows rose in surprise almost to her hairline. “What _else_ have you done?”

Tongue darting out over her bottom lip, Becky let her gaze drift to where the Supernatural books were all neatly lined up on Charlie’s books shelves. “I’m sort of the reason the books are still being published even though the boys didn’t want them to?”

“You _what_?”

She sighed heavily, explaining in a rush. “The books just started getting mysteriously delivered to my door one day with no return address! I kept them at first, until they came with a letter explaining that they needed to be published and who I needed to contact in order to get it done. I can’t figure out why Chuck would send them to me to publish, and don’t know why it would be anyone else, but then I met you, too, and my life was actually going good for once, and then _this_ ,” she exclaimed, hand sweeping toward the door accusingly, “and I don’t know why or how all these things have happened, but you know, it was like Divine intervention on my _behalf_ for once, and if the Winchesters find me-“

Charlie frowned, straightening defensively. “You don’t really think they’d hurt you, do you, Becky? Dean and Sam would never-“

“ _No_ , but I can’t stand the way I know they’ll look at me, either, that hurts _more_.”

Silence settled over them then, neither looking at the other as they tried to mull over this sudden convergence of double-lives and where that left them as friends. Becky broke the silence first, more for a change in subject than anything.

“So what did the boys bring you that they need your help with? What kind of help?”

“Research,” Charlie said, reaching over to retrieve the file from the coffee table. “They think there’s another player in town. A friend of theirs, Garth, sent them here on a case, but then when they went to work it, they’re weren’t any signs of anything being wrong, so they wanted me to backtrack and see if Garth’s information on the item in question was wrong or if someone had really already worked the case.”

Becky stilled. “A case involving the exhibit over at the college right now?”

Charlie looked at the paperwork in front of her, reading it over. “Uh, yeah, looks like.” She glanced up. “How did you know?”

Becky sunk down in her seat, hugging a pillow to her chest tightly. “… _I_ worked the case.”

“You have _got_ to be kidding.”

“The day I looked so tired and you teased me about all night sex? I’d been up half the night over at the college.”

“You’re the hunter in town? Shut the front door!”

The blonde rapidly shook her head. “No, no, no. I am _not_ a hunter, okay? Let’s be clear on that. _So not_ a hunter. The information came to me with the last manuscripts, and for obvious reasons, I couldn’t pass it on to Sam and Dean. I happen to live here, so I looked into myself. It was easy enough to take care of and that was it.”

Charlie whistled. “Good thing you didn’t wait till the next night to do the job, you’d have run straight into the Winchesters.”

“ _That_ would have been a disaster.” She scoffed and shook her head, trying to imagine that scenario. “God, I can only imagine how mad they’d be, some rookie fangirl sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong and risking getting herself killed.”

“But you did the job,” Charlie pointed out.

Her friend shrugged. “I did the job. I still don’t know why it came to me, but I did the job.”

The red head shrugged. “Then I’ll just tell the boys it looks like someone beat them to the punch.”

Becky chanced a glance at her, their eyes meeting and locking. “And where does that leave _us_?”

The other woman cocked her head. “Better off than before, I guess? Now you know why I’m cackling so hard over the books because I really _am_ going to give the boys crap over them. So, wait, if your adventures with the boys are in the books, or even just the one, does that mean I’m in the books as well?”

Becky shrugged. “Maybe? I haven’t gotten the books that far in the story yet. I just got to the part where Cas absorbs all the souls in Purgatory, and I already can tell it’s going to bite him in the ass. If what you did was closely tied to the main story arc, then yeah, probably you’ll end up in the books. Who are the Leviathans and, well, I’ve heard of Dick Roman from the news and all, though not lately. Are you saying he was evil?”

They spent the rest of the night talking, Charlie telling Becky about her encounter with the Winchesters and the hand she had in helping save the world, then when their lives crossed paths again with the LARPing fiasco. Now they stayed in contact, though when Becky asked, Charlie couldn’t really tell her anything about Cas. He’d last come to the Winchesters in order to get help in rescuing another angel that had been captured by Crowley, and said angel apparently didn’t make it. Last Dean had seen him, Cas had taken his brother’s body back to Heaven and had been MIA since, not answering prayers or anything.

Charlie didn’t actually know what had happened between what Becky had read so far in the books or how Dean and Cas somehow end up in Purgatory together after the fight with Dick Roman, knew that they both got out, and then that things had been both good and weird between them, but for whatever reason, Dean couldn’t really talk about it. Charlie had tried to tease him about it, and he’d assured her that it was something he’d learned in dealing with angels: you never knew who was listening in, and with what they were dealing with currently, the less he said, the better.

And that was it, really. Life back to normal, except now they could both talk about the Winchesters like mutual friends, and Becky could talk to Charlie about things with the books and what was going on with publishing, or Charlie could tell Becky about conversations she had with the Winchesters if they asked for her help on a case.

It was life, a little less ordinary, but life. And, really, they were both inclined to agree that they’d been led to one another, and the Winchesters. If reading the books had taught them anything, well, it that there were much bigger players at work than just them. And hey, they were fine with that, totally fine.

Until the next manuscripts showed up, with yet another case included as well.

It sat in the center of the dining table, both girls eyeing the envelope suspiciously. Charlie rose and walked into Becky’s kitchen.

“This calls for tea. This definitely calls for tea.”

“This might call for something stronger than tea,” Becky called back. “Is there soda in the fridge?”

The red head swiveled her head around to regard her. “I am not giving you that much sugar. We have to figure this out.”

“You don’t think I’m suppose to work the case again, do you?” Becky asked, a twinge of panic to her voice. “Not a hunter! So I dated a prophet, and well, was married to a hunter for, like, a short period, but that does not make me a hunter! So does not!”

Charlie held up a hand. “B, relax. We’ll figure this out. We haven’t even looked at the case, yet. Who knows, maybe we can pass it off to the boys, or, I dunno. I can call Garth since they gave me his number, pass it on to him, and he can pass it on to whatever hunters are closest to the area.”

“How are you going to explain it to them that you found it?”

The red head looked affronted, pointing to herself. “Genius.” She moved to stand by the table again, pulling the file towards her and flicking it open. “I probably could have found loads of cases by now had I been looking for them, I just wasn’t going out… of my… way… Hm.”

Becky stood up, moving into the kitchen as the kettle started to whistle. “Hm?” she echoed. “What ‘hm’?”

“Think I know why it’s coming to you, at least.” She turned and held up a newspaper article. “It’s local, just like last time. You are the closest person, apparently, to look into it.” She set the paper down again, spreading the pieces of paper out to look at. “A couple killed after they left a charity event for the children’s hospital. No sign of forced entry. Nothing stolen that they can tell, but house trashed, so who knows. Police baffled.”

“That definitely sounds like a Sam and Dean case,” Becky commented, handing the other girl her mug of tea.

“Mm, can’t see how, it wasn’t an auction or anything. So it’s not like they bought something there that was cursed and took it home with them. In fact, they were the biggest supporters of the hospital, donating not only money but time into it. Getting them killed will probably leave the hospital scrambling for new sponsors.”

“So then why are they dead?”

“I just opened the file; I have no idea.” She closed it again. “But, I will call Garth and pass along the tip. Once we figure out why they were killed. I can’t send him a case where my only lead that it’s actually a case is that it was hand delivered to either one of us.”

Which lead them to research why that particular couple.

…which lead to them dressing as Crime Scene Investigators so they could get in the house to do a ‘final sweep’ of the place after Charlie hacked into their systems to see what they had already catalogued and filed.

“Okay, you’re the expert here,” Charlie stated when they were past police tape and alone in the house. “What do we do now?”

Blue gloves already on, Becky knelt to dig through her bag. “You’ve read a good chunk of the books. Start with the basics. Here.” She tossed her a handheld device. “Do a sweep for EMF. You said the reports didn’t have anything about sulfur, right?”

Booting up the contraption, Charlie began a slow circle around the living room where the couple had been killed. “Uh, yeah. No signs of demonic activity.”

“That they picked up. Okay. I’ll look for anything with symbols on it that could be curse or something. Reports didn’t mention anything that could be a hex bag, did they?”

“No witchy devices.” She paused in her scan. “Though, then again,” her eyes swept the room and the blood stains in the carpet and on the furniture. “Given the way they were killed, I highly doubt a hex bag would have garnered any notice from them. They were probably looking for how the perp got in, got out, and what weapons they used that caused this much arterial spray.”

Becky had been carefully keeping her eyes away from the large bloodstain in the middle of the room. She had no idea how hunters got so desensitized to be able to make jokes about this stuff, but she was beginning to think it was the only way to do the job.

“Anybody else to do with that hospital die anytime recently?”

“A few of the other donators. One of a heart attack, the other in a car accident, nothing like this. The head nurse died _at_ the hospital about a year ago.”

Becky paused frowning, then swiveled her head around to regard the red head. “But increasing in violent nature,” she murmured. “How’d the nurse die?”

Charlie met her gaze from across the room. “All honesty? Looks like a Leviathan attack, and the Winchesters put down the chompy double. Leviathans originally tryied to get seated not only in positions of power but in places they could find an easy meal as well.”

“So definitely a violent death, then, right?”

The EMF meter falling to her side, Charlie angled her head. “You’re thinking vengeful spirit?” She held up the device and waggled it. “How come it’s not going off then?”

The blonde shrugged, adjusting the bib of her cap on her head. “We haven’t found what brought the spirit home with them or where she got in if it wasn’t an item?”

Charlie sighed, face morphing into one of dread. “We’re probably going to be digging up a grave tonight, aren’t we?”

“Better than a witch,” Becky shrugged. “At least this way, all we have to do it salt and burn the bones if that’s the case. If it was a witch, we’d have to kill the person.”

It _was_ a vengeful spirit, in fact. A nurse furious that after all the time and effort and hours nurses were putting into the hospital, keeping it running and being their for patients, it was forever the patrons of the hospital ending up in the papers rather than the staff, or even the patients and volunteers. It was the people throwing around a lot of money in order to get a tax break that were being sung as heroes.

Also, digging a perfect grave? So _not_ as easy as Dean and Sam made it sound! The next day, both girls were exhausted and had hands covered in blisters. Charlie had multicolored bandages all over her hands and fingers, bemoaning that her fingers were the tools of her trade, she needed them like a _surgeon_ needed his _hands_ , dammit, and next case that came their way, they were sending it to Garth, she didn’t care if it was something happening right next door!

Except, of course, that didn’t happen either. Which, in retrospect, was actually a good thing.

Students started dying at the university. Dry land drownings within the college halls. That one, at least was a pretty straight forward case. A painting had been donated to the college of a mermaid on a rocky outcropping looking out to sea, the little cliff side village in the distance and ship coming to shore. The painting was the final work of a girl who had committed suicide through drowning after years of bullying, and now her spirit was apparently going after students that used bullying tactics with others.

They just had to sneak in, steal the painting, and then destroy it. After her little romp around campus last time, Becky was even more familiar with the grounds this time, so that getting in to the painting was almost easy.

The problem came when, as they were stealing it, another person clad all in black showed up. Another female thief joining the show. Which made no sense, the painting wasn’t actually worth anything as far as Becky knew, it had been donated as part of an anti-bullying sentiment within the local area, that the life that had created such beautiful artwork was gone because of the words used by other people.

Charlie and the newcomer ended up in a stand-off, both pointing tazers at the other one until Becky drew and pointed her own as well.

“You’ve come to steal a painting with no monetary value?” Becky asked.

The woman’s green eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, standing out in sharp contrast from the dark of her hair and her clothes.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said evenly. “What do you want with it?”

“No disrespect to the dead,” Charlie spoke up, “but we plan to destroy it, actually.”

The woman stiffened more than she already had been. “ _Destroy_ it?” she echoed, voice louder than she meant so that it was amplified down the hallway in a way that made the other girls gringe. Then she did something very strange: she relaxed her posture, lowering her weapon to her side. “You’re hunters, aren’t you?”

The two other women exchanged a glance uncertainly before lowering their weapons as well. “You could say that. You, too?”

The woman nodded, then tipped her head toward the painting. “The girl’s family brought the painting to my gallery, wanting to see if I could help in getting it displayed with an anti-bullying sentiment, make people aware that certain behavior is not acceptable and has life long consequences, even just the words you speak. The gallery, in turn, approached the college. I’ve actually had a problem similar to this before with a piece that came through our hands, so when people started dying, it was easy to put two and two together and come up with cursed object. I’m here to destroy it as well.”

Blinking in surprise, Becky and Charlie regarded each other, communicating silently in hand gestures and shoulder shrugs before they both turned back to the dark haired woman.

“Are you Sarah?” they asked in unison.

The woman blinked with a start. “How could you know that?”

“Sam’s Sarah?” Becky pressed. “Sarah Blake?”

Emerald eyes flicked to each of them. “You two have a lot of explaining to do, but we really need to get this painting taken care of first.”

Together the three of them got the painting and got away from campus grounds with it, taking it to an empty parking lot to destroy, salt, and burn, before heading off back to Charlie’s apartment, the three of them sitting around the dining room table with cups of tea before anyone really spoke.

“So,” began Charlie carefully, eyes finding Sarah’s across the table. “You _are_ Sarah Blake, right?”

The dark haired woman nodded. “Yeah, though, I’m not _Sam’s_ Sarah, if we’re talking Sam Winchester. I haven’t seen him in years, so I-“

“You’re in the books,” Becky interjected.

Green eyes met hers. “Books?”

“Yeah, books,” Becky confirmed, before taking in a deep breath and letting it out in a long sigh. They had a lot of explaining to do.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They didn’t get a call. They got a fist pounding on the door and Dean Winchester shouting. “Charlie! It’s Dean! Open up! We’ve got an emergency!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters/Pairings: Becky Rosen, Charlie Bradbury, Sarah Blake, and background Dean/Cas and Sam/Sarah, appearance of some characters from Season Seven of Supernatural.

             They were a team, like Charlie’s Angels, except cooler! Charlie was their hacker, and nothing hooked up to electricity was safe from her. Becky and Sarah worked the field for the most part. Stunningly beautiful with all the right curves and beguiling beauty, Sarah was the ‘charmer’, often times providing a distraction so that Becky and Charlie could sneak past and break into whatever locked office or areas not open to the public they needed to get into.

            When Sarah flashed her most charming smile and glanced up from under dark lashes, even Becky and Charlie were both a little in awe and stammering. That decided it. Becky wanted to be Sarah Blake when she grew up. Sarah was the elegant swan to her simple little duck. Not that Becky minded being a duck. Ducks were cute and fluffy and soft and they seemed happy, like daisies seemed happy.

            Okay, so maybe she didn’t want to be Sarah. She was happy as a duck. A white duck. It’s kind of like a swan in its own way.

            Sarah had moved to this town when her father wanted to expand their gallery. He stayed behind in New York while she oversaw the one in Indiana, which was started with pieces from the Margaret Stark Charity Foundation and their overflowing gallery in New York.

            The three of them ended up on so many cases together, ones that came in the mail and ones they found on their own, that they kept ending up all crashing at whoever’s apartment was closest when they finished the hunt, they even all had spare clothes at each others respective homes.

            It was getting to the point it was so absurd, Sarah finally cracked first.

            “We’re moving in together,” she said as they shuffled around Becky’s kitchen fixing breakfast and passing out coffee and tea in order to face their real lives as civilians.

            The blonde and red head looked at her sharply, Becky nearly burning the pancakes in her distraction.

            Charlie looked around. Becky’s apartment wasn’t tiny, but it was clearly only meant for one, maybe two people if they were a couple, but not three single females. Becky met her gaze and thought the same thing about Charlie’s and Sarah’s apartments. They were nice, each of them distinct to their owner, but clearly not suited for more than housing a couple.

            Sarah moved over to retrieve plates from the cabinet, handing them to Becky as the batch of pancakes finished.

            “My father owns a building. It’s a house that got turned into apartments, then it got turned into a gallery. It’s really not suited to be a gallery, not with its location, and the entire building was renovated so it can’t be used as apartments again. The first floor is the living area and it’s mostly an open layout. The rooms are on the second floor. It’s in the historical district, so it’s a good area, it’s not far from any of our workplaces, and our wardrobes wouldn’t be scattered across three locations.” She fixed each of them with a pointed look. “Think about it.”

            As Sarah moved to sit down at the table with her breakfast, Charlie and Becky took stock of their current situation, eyes meeting again, and almost like they were communicating telepathically, they both turned to Sarah.

            “Okay, we’re in,” they said in unison.

            How did this all happen, that three completely different women were brought together like this? That they had all been brought into a world where Supernatural things existed and having that curtain removed opened up a whole world of possibilities not previously available to them?

They had the Winchesters to thank. Had none of them met the Winchesters, they would never have met each other, and where they had once all been living contentedly, they’d all shared a similar… void in their life that should have been filled by another person. While they certainly weren’t romantic, they were all family now, and none of them ever had to worry about feeling like they were alone or isolated anymore.

            Their hunts also gave them a very wide range of contacts and allies, allowing them to often call in favors or seek out others with more knowledge than they had, as not everyone had Bobby Singer’s library. Not that Bobby even had his library anymore. They learned through Charlie that Bobby Singer was killed by Dick Roman the year before, and Garth was taking over as the figure head in the hunter community, keeping things organized and barking orders when needed. The girls weren’t apart of the hunter community _exactly_. They hunted, yes, only within the state of Indiana, but they also let certain supernatural creatures be if they weren’t hurting anyone.

            They almost stopped a Djinn that was running an opium ring, and fed on people as they were high out of their minds, but not so much that it threatened them, more like small amounts from a large quantity of people, and the drugs were what kept them coming back for more. While the girls didn’t condone the behavior, they also knew well enough all the druggies needed was a new supplier if they took out the Djinn. Leaving the Djinn in charge, they knew for certain the people were actually safe, as he needed his customers more than they needed him.

            The Djinn had an amazing ability to pass through dimensions, and while he couldn’t stay for prolonged periods in the worlds running parallel to their own, he could retrieve items and bring them back. And did he. _Oh, did he_.

            The girls were very excited to learn that Supernatural was a FUCKING TV SHOW in _two_ worlds aside from theirs, rather than a book series. It seemed if Sam and Dean weren’t hunters in real life, their doppelgangers always ended up portraying their lives regardless. Which was kind of cool. No matter what world or life they were born into, Team Free Will always found each other.

            Sarah was best friends with _two_ witches. Charlie got in good with the fairies. And for her part, Becky befriended members of the _were_ -community, which included anything with animal-human inclinations. Then, of course, they also met their fair share of hunters, but hunters were far warier of them than the supernatural creatures, even if you did save their life.

Garth was awesome, they loved him. He was awkward as hell to boot, hugged everybody, and was completely impossible not to eventually come to love. He specialized in cases involving children when he wasn’t delegating hunts and giving the hunter community some semblance of order.

            The only people to not know about the girls joining forces to become a surprisingly accomplished team were, well, the Winchesters, and that was done intentionally, for many reasons.

            So, yeah, they each had their day jobs, though Becky had been forced to switch to part time on her job in order to focus the attention she needed on the Supernatural books as they gained an even larger following of fans, then in order to help coordinate a series of Supernatural conventions in various states, planning it all out, and even going as a speaker to several of them.

Sarah, Charlie, and Becky had stayed up all night one night in order to come up with panels and events for the convention. They decided against another LARP event and replaced it with a sort of talent show for con-goers, groups created and put on skits in a three-minute time slot and then performed them for the audience. They agreed with fan creativity, it would prove quite entertaining. They also had a masquerade that required formal wear and tickets to attend, decking out the ballroom like a haunted graveyard. The money raised went to charity, and they thought if the Winchesters ever _did_ find out, they couldn’t really argue with something like that, right?

            By the time they got done planning the conventions, the girls would have been lying had they said they didn’t all want to go and enjoy it themselves, see how the Winchesters had touched and inspired so many lives even whilst these people didn’t know they were actually real.

            They _didn’t_ go, of course, except for Becky using a false name, since the author was unable to make an appearance due to his health. They explained that the author had such a frail constitution, he was forced to live in a secluded and sterile environment, almost completely unable to be exposed to other people. He sent his condolences, they told everyone, writing out messages to the fans as though they were from him to be read in his absence.

            So, life was good for the three best friends now. Civilians by day, they were digging up graves and breaking into anywhere that held clues to their cases by night. Museums, antique shops, homes, thrift stores, nursing homes, it didn’t matter. They could be nurses, cat burglars, FBI, reporters, antiquers, or insurance claims adjusters. What had started out as one girl with a fluke case, had become a two-woman team fumbling to work with unapplied knowledge, and now was a well-oiled and functioning machine of female power.

            Becky never voiced the desire aloud, but she kinda wanted to find a hunt and then challenge the Winchesters with it: whoever solved it first, the boys or the girls, won. She honestly thought they could give the two brothers and one angel a run for their money.

 

 

 

            It was one day while they were all home off work, that the two worlds collided. The girls were taking the weekend off. They had stopped a Lady in White, a vengeful spirit, a Fae king traveling from another realm, a runaway teenage _dragon_ , oh and they had put to rest the spirit of a little boy who had died in the hospital and had no idea he was dead, so _they’d_ had to explain. Apparently, his reaper wasn’t as good at its job as Tessa because the kid had honestly not believed him and thought it were a pedophile instead. All three women bit back a snort at hearing that the boy had thrown bedpans at the Reaper’s head and accused him of being a freak who liked little boys.

            All of this had taken place in the last month and they were taking the weekend _off_. They’d already informed Garth. They were not to be contacted unless it was the Apocalypse, and even then, they were to be called _last_.

            They didn’t get a call. They got a fist pounding on the door and Dean Winchester shouting.

            “Charlie! It’s Dean! Open up! We’ve got an emergency!”

            The red head dashed to open the door, while Sarah and Becky could do little else but stand out of the way and hope they went unnoticed, eyes meeting and locking from opposite corners of the first floor. Sarah was in the kitchen and Becky curled in the over stuffed chair in a reading corner.

            Having set her book aside, Becky sat up straighter in the chair, whole body thrumming with tension as she slid the angel blade out of its hiding spot on the underside of one of the shelves. Sarah had already armed herself in the kitchen as well, gun hidden in the waistband of her jeans.

            Opening the door wide, Charlie gasped and covered her mouth with her hand as Dean came in with a body over his shoulder.

            “Omigawd, what happened? Who-?” The tell-tale trench coat and black business suit were enough of a giveaway without seeing the man’s face. “ _What happened_?”

            Sam shut the door behind them, freezing as he turned back to gape when he caught sight of Sarah in the kitchen. She offered a timid, albeit distracted smile, all three women moving to follow Dean over to the couch where he carefully deposited Cas.

            “He Fell,” he replied gruffly, kneeling by the angel- _former_ angel’s side. Everyone heard the capitalization of the second word. Restless hands roamed over the angel’s form, checking for injuries he might have missed the first time Dean probably checked him over.

            Sam wasted no time in being shocked to see the other two females they clearly had not been expecting or demanding explanation, instead began pulling the outside shutters closed and painting warding and protection sigils all over the windows. Sarah and Becky were spurred to action, rushing to do their already decided and practiced warding of the house. ‘Formation: Safehouse,’ they called it.

            A rug was laid out in front of the door with a devil’s trap on the underside. Hex bags hung on hooks above every window and doorway. Weapons were checked and double-checked. What looked like a decorative scroll on the wall was moved and hung on the back of the front door instead so that the door would not open unless by the hand of someone already inside the apartment.

            The girls finished before Sam did, circling around again, both bringing medical supplies with them as all three men had clearly been in a serious fight they were lucky to escape.

            “Fell nothing, Dean,” Sam corrected as he came over, obeying Sarah as she silently bade him sit so she could clean and inspect a long cut on his face and another on his forehead she was sure would require stitches. The brunette man turned worried gaze on the unconscious man. “They ripped his wings off and left him for dead.”

            Dean shot his brother a withering glare, lips curling back in a snarl. “Dammit, Sammy, I know. I was fucking _there_!”

            Charlie knelt by Dean to undo Cas’ tie, only to have Dean shoulder her aside and away, doing the job himself, never once noticing Becky or Sarah, all his focus on the friend that needed him.

            Perhaps as apology, Dean began to explain, even allowing help as he tried to get Cas out of his trench coat, “There’s a real bitch- Naomi- in Heaven that’s been pulling Cas’ strings for a while now, making him her personal puppet. When she could no longer use him, she cut his strings and left him for dead. They’ll still be looking for him.”

            “The three of you can hide here-“

            “No,” he barked. “We can’t. They’ll know he’s with us. We have to lead them away. They would never find him with you. I just-“ His words failed him as his hands ran out of things to worry with. A hand gently rose to card through the angel’s hair once. Cas’ eyes remained open, but unseeing. “I need you to look after him until it’s safe for us to come back.”

            He did finally look away from Cas to meet Charlie’s gaze, giving the red head a beseeching look. “Charlie… you know.” He swallowed thickly, glancing back at the man. “I mean, I figure you know-“

            She laid a hand on his shoulder, smiling a tight smile of reassurance when he followed the hand on his shoulder to her face. “I know. We’ll protect him.”

            It was then that Dean took in the other faces in the room, blinking at Becky and then at Sarah, seeing, but not comprehending. Charlie purposefully moved so that she blocked Becky from Dean’s line of sight. “I promise.”

            Murmuring soft thanks, Sam pulled away from Sarah’s hands, the hands that had applied super glue and a butterfly stitch to the cut over his eye. It would hold, for now. He placed a large hand on his brother’s shoulder.

            “Dean, we _really_ need to go. Like, now.”

            “I know, I know,” hissed the elder Winchester, hands still fussing with Cas’ dress shirt.

            Becky got it. Dean didn’t know if he would see Cas again, was terrified that he might not, and here he was having to leave him behind when he wasn’t even conscious to defend himself, for Dean to assure the angel- _former_ angel- that they- _he_ would be back for him, would destroy an army with his bare hands if he had to, in order to get back to him, that Cas was not being abandoned by the family that _loved_ him.

            She moved over to her emergency bag, then tucked a calling card from her purse into the front pocket. She brought it back over to the couch, offering it to Dean. He stared at the red backpack, then at her, more hostile again.

            “You’ll be able to safely keep in touch with us with the things in this bag. It also has protectives and a book of addresses. You may not be happy with who or what all takes you in, but tell them we sent you and they _will_ take you in. You’ll be safe.”

            Sarah moved as well. “Take my car, leave yours, we’ll handle it as well.” She retrieved her car keys and tossed them to Sam. “There are hidden compartments under the back seats, plus weapons and supplies in the trunk.” She nodded to the blonde. “Becky’s right though. Guard the bag with your life, only use the phones we give you, call the numbers we listed, and make sure to always be in one of the safe houses at night.”

            Both now standing, the Winchesters were looking at the three females as though they’d never seen them before. Charlie pushed the bag at Dean’s chest and then physically drew him away from the couch, though Dean’s eyes strayed back until the man lying there was no longer in sight. At the door, Dean’s gaze flicked between Charlie and the couch, then to Becky and Sarah, the couch, and finally back to Charlie.

            The red head gave his arm a squeeze, looking so tiny and frail by comparison next to the hunter. “I’ll die before I let anything happen to him, I promise.”

            He nodded before pulling her into a rough hug, Becky barely hearing the torn “Thank you” his whispered in her ear before both brothers were darting out the door and for Sarah’s car.

            After the door was secured behind them, Charlie looked at Sarah. “Might as well call Garth. Tell him we ran into a hitch and have taken to ground until things blow over. Tell him we’ll be in touch once they do.” Her head turned to the blonde. “We’ll need some clothes for him, he can’t live in the suit. T-shirts and pajama bottoms for now. Once he’s more coherent, we’ll worry with real clothes.”

            They looked down to regard the once-angel, all of their hearts plummeting to see that Cas had closed his eyes, but now had tear tracks down the sides of face where he lay. The girls scattered to do their jobs, Charlie dropping to her knees beside him, taking one of his hands in hers and hugging it to her chest, her right hand coming up to stroke over his hair the way Dean had done.

            “Hey, hey,” she crooned in a whisper. “It’ll be okay. You’re safe here. Dean and Sam will be back.”

            His eyes remained closed and it was a long time before the tears finally stopped.

 

 

 

            Having the vulnerable male staying with them presented quite a few challenges immediately. He followed orders, if they had him sit or stand or move, more like allowing them to move him as they needed him to, then remaining unresponsive until another command was given.

            Donning her bikini, Charlie was the one that helped him get a shower. His clothes were torn and covered in dirt and blood. They’d initially tended to the wounds on his chest, but they had not checked anywhere else, or had the chance to see his back. He didn’t have wounds there, but a whimper still came from his mouth at the initial touch. Charlie carefully worked the soapy rag over the expanse of his back, being as gentle as possible, and softly talking to him the whole time, telling him who each of the girls he was with were, and how they knew the Winchesters, the times they had helped the brothers recently without the boys realizing it.

            She got him out and toweled him dry, then gave him instructions as she needed his help in getting him dressed in soft pajama pants and a t-shirt one of the girls had loaned him while Becky went to procure more. Once he was cleaned and dressed, Sarah tried to get him to eat, spoon-feeding him a small bowl of chicken soup. He would respond occasionally to questions, blinking, letting them know he was registering the world around him and what was going on, at least, to some degree.

            They made a point not actually ever give him ‘orders’, posing things they needed him to do to help them help him in the form of requests or questions, instead.

            When Becky got back, they decided to start educating him in pop-culture, at least for something to maybe distract him. They alternated Disney movies and live-action films, Cas situated in the middle of the couch, and Sarah and Charlie on either side of him as they watched. Becky was curled up in her favorite red reading chair watching.

            As the first day drew to a close, the girls unfolded the couch into a bed, and all three of them slept in the living room with him, not wanting to retire to their own rooms, not knowing if Cas would even go to sleep or would he be awake all night knowing he was somewhere unfamiliar and now alone. He may not know them, but they wanted him to know that he was safe and so very far from actually being alone.

            It was two days before the Winchesters called. The first thing out of Dean’s mouth was “How is he?”

            They were holed up in a safe house with a woman named Kate, a woman and species of werewolf the boys had actually encountered earlier that year and let go. Charlie told him about Cas, that he was still mostly unresponsive and withdrawn, she thought it was shock. She told him that currently Cas was seated in the reading chair and Becky was enthusiastically reading aloud to him from a book. She didn’t tell him it was a _Supernatural_ novel, one of the funnier cases the boys had been on that Cas hadn’t been there to experience.

            She also told him about Becky, explaining that the girl had only meant well when she invited them to the Supernatural convention, and that there was a huge portion of the story in Vegas neither of them actually got. In low tones so Becky wouldn’t hear, she told them that they really needed to give Becky another chance. She was different than the boys were use to, but Dean had been just as excited to meet Dr. Sexy, and Sam would _geek out_ if he met Harry Potter, and dammit she is my best friend and good as gold and would do anything to help anyone who needed her, so you will be _nice_ or I will end you, do you understand me?

            The next day, Sarah noted that Cas was looking a little scruffy about the jaw and called in a friend, opening the door to allow Don Stark entrance.

            “Hello, Sarah,” he greeted, kissing her cheek. “What’s with all the protectives?” he wondered, indicating the apartment with a twirl of his finger. “Maggie said to let you know if you need our help with whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, all you need do is ask, dear.”

            She smiled. “I know, tell her I appreciate it, I do, but we have it under control for the most part.”

            “But you still need my help?” his gaze had already sought and found the unfamiliar face in the house. “With a fallen angel?”

            Leading him over to where Cas was seated and Becky had stopped reading, she regarded their houseguest, gaze flicking over his entire appearance. “You can tell just by looking at him?”

            The witch nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Indeed. It has been a very long time since I have ever seen angels do this to one of their own though, and that was only once.” He regarded the dark haired woman. “How’d you happen upon _him_ of all angels?”

            “He’s a friend, we took him in when he needed us. We can take care of most of his needs while he’s like this, but I figured it might be best to call in help on this one.”

            The older man arched a brow inquiringly. “Oh?”

            Sarah actually looked a little embarrassed before indicating Castiel. “He needs a shave and, well, that’s not something any of us have experience with, obviously.”

            The male witch stared at her in surprise, then barked with laughter, head thrown back. “You want me to give him _a shave_?”

            “Please, Don, we promised to look after him and-“

            He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Oh, of course I will, but I honestly thought you needed witchcraft, a hex bag, some of Maggie’s coins, or to call in a favor of Hell or something.” He chuckled in fond amusement. “I wasn’t expecting something as simple as this.” He moved to clap a hand to Castiel’s shoulder. “Alright, chap, let’s go. Gotta get rid of the scruff before that boyfriend of yours comes back.”

            “ _Boyfriend_?” all three girls echoed.

            Don glanced at them over his shoulder in confusion as he led Cas into the bathroom. “Yeah. Those hunters that helped me and Maggie get back together. I told you about that, Sarah. One of them had the mark of an angel all over him. _This_ angel.” The girls exchanged a look before Sarah hurried after, while Don continued talking. “Where is he anyway? I actually wouldn’t mind seeing the pair again. They weren’t half bad. Maggie won’t be thrilled to see them, but they did get us to reconcile, and we haven’t seen anymore of those ridiculous Leviathan either, so I can only guess that was their doing.”

            Sarah stayed out of the way while Don set to work getting Cas situated, lathered, and then carefully began giving him a shave, explaining tips and techniques to the angel as he did so, because eventually, the angel would apparently snap out of the stupor- which was a relief to know- and would have to do it himself.

            “Don, none of us have ever even heard of anything like this,” Sarah told him, gesturing to Cas. “How long before he’s… okay? What do we need to do to try and get him more conscious? I mean, he’s conscious, but he’s not exactly here with us, at the same time.”

            Carefully moving the razor over Cas’ skin, the witch shrugged elegantly. “When it suits him, I suppose. It was a traumatic event, but given that he’s found himself in good hands and he knows he’s safe, then it should coax him out faster. Dean being here would probably help a great deal.”

            “He can’t be. He and Sam are leading the angels and demons on a goose chase away from him while he’s like this.”

            He nodded. “Yes, I do understand that, but Castiel and Dean are Bonded. They’re souls are linked, literally. When they are away from each other, it causes a strain on both of them, whether they realize it or not. When they are together, they are both obviously more relaxed and at ease, because they are together, regardless of the circumstances going on around them. If you can’t get Dean and Sam back here, at least let Castiel talk to him on the phone or something, hold the phone to his ear or put Dean on speaker phone, just so long as Cas can hear him. Skype him if you have to, that would be better, actually. Castiel would be able to see and hear him. It might draw him out faster. Uh oh,” he sighed, reaching for the towel to dab at Cas’ now damp cheeks as tears had silently begun to streak down. “C’mon now, none of that,” he crooned softly, thumb rubbing absently on Cas’ jaw.

 

 

            Becky quit her job so she could stay home with Cas for the next few weeks. She’d gotten so busy with the books lately anyway, it had begun to look like that was inevitable. Charlie called on her lunch break to talk to Cas over speakerphone, babbling about her day even though he never responded. Occasionally, Sarah would stop by the house on her lunch break in order to see him. Dean and Sam called twice a day, Sam talked to him over the phone in the morning, and then in the evening whenever they’d made it to a safe house, Dean would skype with Cas. The girls always set Cas up in Charlie’s room for that and pulled the door to so that they could give them some level of privacy, in the hopes that Dean would feel free to say whatever he needed to to the angel in order to draw him out of himself.

            Often, when one of them came back to the room to retrieve Cas, the angel’s eyes were wet with tears. Becky really wished Dean would come back, she thought as she wrapped her arms around Cas’ torso and hugged him, face buried in his chest. She could feel tears dripping off of Cas’ jaw and onto the top of her head. She squeezed him tighter when his arms, to her surprise, came up to wrap around her in return.

It should be Dean and Sam offering him comfort, rather than the girls.

            Don came by every few days to give Cas a shave, often bringing Maggie with him as well. Maggie had heard what was going on and set about creating a tea for the angel to counteract whatever he was going through, to heal whatever damage had been done to him that wasn’t something they could fix, and would help keep him calm.

            Becky continued to read the novels aloud to Cas, hoping to somehow fill the lost connection to Dean that Cas was feeling. They were stories of the past, but they were still about Dean and Sam, and those were the people that the stripped angel needed most right now, everyone else was left scrambling to be a distraction at best. Maybe they were able to bring him some small measure of comfort, to make the angel not feel like he wasn’t alone, even if he wasn’t with his family. Becky hoped so.

            She realized she was wrong a week later. For two days, Cas refused to eat and became completely unresponsive.

            Steeling herself, she called Dean. In all the time that the angel had been with them, Becky had made a point never to actually talk to either of the Winchesters, instead letting Charlie or Sarah talk to one of them.

            When Dean answered in the middle of the day, she could hear the strain in his voice. They never actually called the boys, the Winchesters always called them when it was a safe time.

            “Charlie?”

            She paused, swallowing. “No, it’s Becky.” She glanced at Cas who was staring off into nothing. This was the third day like this. “You need to come home.”

 

 

 

            Dean actually took a _plane_ in order to get to them as quickly as possible. Becky worried that Charlie and Sarah would be pissed off at her about the phone call, when she called to tell them what she had done. They’d both sighed resignedly, like they’d known it would have to be done eventually, but had really not wanted to. They didn’t want to think that they had failed the Winchesters, that Cas had gotten worse in their care, but the truth of the matter was they weren’t what Cas needed- and that was his family.

            Neither Sarah nor Charlie were off work yet when Dean banged on the door, looking half mad and way over-caffeinated. She opened the door and stepped to the side, watching as Dean hesitated in entering, eyes zeroing in on the man sitting unmoving on the couch.

            “Cas,” Dean breathed.

            When the angel actually responded to his name, if only by turned his head to acknowledge he had even heard it, Becky knew she made the right choice in calling Dean back. She closed the door behind Dean as he came inside, locking it tightly.

            For a moment, Dean just stood in front of Cas where he was seated, staring at the angel who was staring straight ahead unseeing. Then, with complete disregard of the woman quietly making her way from the room to give them privacy, Dean actually crawled onto the couch, straddling Cas’ lap and hugged him, arms wrapped tightly around Cas’ shoulders and face buried.

            Becky all but snuck upstairs and camped out in her room until it was closer time for her housemates to return home.

            When she did come back downstairs, the two men were watching a movie. Dean had his arm stretched across the back of the couch, his hand curled around the back of Cas’ neck and thumb gently stroking the exposed skin above the collar of his t-shirt.

            The blonde moved around to wordlessly seat herself on the far end of the couch. She would have opted for the chair, but felt it would have been too obvious she was keeping her distance. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Dean had changed Cas’ shirt so that the former angel was wearing something of the hunter’s. Probably so he’d be wearing something familiar.

            Though Cas was still staring blankly at the screen in front of them, he was also clearly more relaxed than he had been in the weeks since he’d arrived.

            “Thank you… Becky,” Dean stated softly.

            She glanced sideways at the two men, unsure if Dean was thanking her for her help or for calling him when the angel got worse. Her gaze slid back to the movie.

            “He’ll get better now that you’re here.”

            She really believed he would. Dean hadn’t seen the angel all day, every day like they had, hadn’t shared a bed with him every night for weeks to wake up and realize that Cas wasn’t actually sleeping, just staring at the ceiling. Even in just twenty-four hours, she saw the differences in the angel now that Dean was there. Saw the way the skin around his eyes and mouth weren’t so tight anymore, and at night, the way his body relaxed into the mattress and face was peaceful in sleep now that he had the hunter curled against him, arm around the angel’s waist to remind him he wasn’t alone.

            Dean took over Cas-duty completely, everything from showering and changing his clothes to getting the angel to eat and clean-shaven. The hunter was surprised when the married witches came by to check on the angel and offer their services in any way possible.

            It was once Dean was staying with them that the girls informed him what was really going on with the trio. That because they had each met the Winchesters, it inevitably led them to meeting each other, and that cases had been being sent to them through the mail- they made a point not to tell him about the books- and that they girls were a hunting team now.

            He… had not been pleased. Mouth wilting into a deep frown of disapproval as he turned his attention back to a book the Starks had brought, searching for a way to completely shield Cas from any angels or demons that would be looking for him, since they couldn’t get an angel to inscribe runes into his ribs like he’d once done for them. Even those didn’t completely make them invisible, just made it a lot harder to find them, as the angels always seemed able to find them eventually.

            Sam still called every morning. He was going to fly under the radar for another week before coming back under the cover of night to reunite with his brother and Cas. And then regardless of the angel’s current state, they were taking him to a safe house of their own. ‘The Batcave’ Dean kept calling it. While they’d been on the run, they had learned every trick in the book they didn’t already know in order to stay off the map, and would implement them as soon as they got home.

            While they were fixing breakfast, Dean once again forcing himself to take over in a way of thanks, a package arrived. Careful to not draw attention to herself, Becky carried the package upstairs while Charlie accepted the thick envelope on top. When the blonde came back down stairs, the hunter and red head had their heads bent together, examining the contents of one of the folders.

            “Apparently, some prophet out there has us in his sights,” Charlie explained as Becky hedged closer to get a look of what their next case would be. “But it isn’t Chuck.”

The blonde blinked in surprise, glancing at both of them. “How do you know?”

Dean was looking at a sheet of paper with sigils and writing in neat rows down the side. “There are different kinds of prophets, we’ve learned. They usually specialize, so that one isn’t all-powerful or whatever. Some see the future, some can read the Word of God, some zone in on specific people’s lives and are expected to chronolog it. Kevin can read the Word, but he can’t see the future. There’s a built in safety feature where only so many of Prophets that can read the Word of God are born at a time, and only one in that number can actually read it. Chuck could see our lives, once Chuck finished his appointed task of writing out our lives though, he vanished off the face of the Earth, we think spirited away to Heaven, like Elijah in the Bible. A reward for doing his job he never had to die a physical death. Sammy and me have died enough times it only seems fair someone else get a free pass. Kevin, the current active Prophet, was brought up to bat, so to speak, once the written Word of God was uncovered and needed a translator.”

He sighed and continued. “Whoever is sending these to you must have Chuck’s ability to see the future of certain people’s lives and knows these are hunts you can take care of. Since he sees your lives, he also sees ours as well since we are interacting with you right now and sent help,” he explains flashing the page at Becky.

The two girls’ gazes met and they looked at Dean in concern. “We’re not gonna end up as a book series, are we?” they asked in unison. They were starting to do that more than the boys did, it had to come from living to close quarters with each other and being so like-minded.

The man blinked in surprise, glancing at both of them before pursing his lips in thought, gaze drifting absently to Castiel, as though to ask his opinion. Cas probably would know better than anyone.

“Mm… not unless you get tangled up in a bigger, uh, _story line_ than regular hunts. Ours are books because we stopped the Apocalypse. Once we stopped it, the books stopped being written and Chuck went to Heaven.”

Both girls quickly switched their complete focus to the folder in Dean’s hands. “So, uh, anything interesting?”

 

 

 

They convinced Dean to go on the hunt with them, to give him a break from being cooped up in doors. After a month of basically hiding out, it was really starting to get to him. Not to mention, he’d been back with Cas for several days now, and while the girls assured him the angel was actually showing improvement, the hunter was worried he may never snap out of his stupor.

“Have you tried kissing him?” Charlie asked as the three of them climbed the fire escape up the back of an old apartment building.

“What?” squawked Dean, looking down at the female climbing behind him. Becky was in the lead.

Adjusting the bag on her back, Charlie shrugged and kept climbing. “Like in fairy tales. True love’s kiss will break the spell and wake him up-“

“He’s not a damsel in a tower,” the man hissed.

“No,” agreed Becky as she reached the top of the building and climbed up. “But if you needed something to jerk him out of his own mind and into reality, or something to coax him out, I suppose, I can’t think of anything better than wanting to make out with you in return.”

She decided against pointing out that were this a Disney movie, Cas was the little mermaid and Dean was Prince Eric, what with the whole ‘griped you tight and raised you’ and fish out of water theme, rather than Snow White or Sleeping Beauty, though she got the Sleeping Beauty similarities given the current situation.

Dean scoffed. “That is the dumbest idea either of you have come up with. I am not kissing him. I don’t even know how’d I’d explain it if he remembered it when he does wake up.”

“He’s caught up on his Disney movies,” Becky chirped.

The red head nodded as they moved over to the sky light, dropping their bags of gear. “Yeah, just tell him you were trying the ‘True love kiss’ on the off chance it actually worked.”

“That is never gonna happen.”

“Weirder things have worked,” Becky pointed out.

The techie was watching Dean’s profile carefully, making Becky examine him as well, the way Dean’s ears and the back of his neck were turning pink. The blonde’s eye widened in realization, and she bit her tongue to keep from saying anything.

Charlie, being much more likely to say what she wanted to Dean and get away with it, spoke up for her. “Wait. You’ve never even kissed him?” Dean’s blush increased and he scowled at her. “Dear God, man, have you even told the angel you’re in love with him?”

He shoved past them both, throwing a harness to Becky. “Why would I say something so ridiculous? Can we just get the job done and get back? I don’t want Sarah to be by herself if something bad happens.”

“Dean,” interjected Becky softly, he shot her a warning glance, but she went on, “You need to tell him. He fell for you, has died for you, and now has lost his wings because of how he feels for you, and Sam. I think he’s made it as clear as he can without actually saying the words how he feels about you. Maybe it’s time you come the rest of the way and tell him how you feel. Maybe that’s what’s keeping him in his head.”

The red head nodded and Dean turned to regard her as she spoke. “If he thinks he’s done all of these things and you don’t feel the same about him, he may be staying in his head to avoid the risk of having the conversation with you where you shoot him down.”

“I don’t think-“

“Dean,” Becky stated flatly, removing the glass panel in the skylight. He chanced a glance at her. “He is a being that has lived for millennia, but it took meeting _you_ to make him throw it all away. How scared would you be after all that to confront the person you threw it away for if you thought they might never love you the way you love them?”

They watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. Moving, he attached one end of the long rope to the harness Becky wore.

“Let’s just steal the urn of ashes and get out of here.”

 

 

Against her will, Becky had begun getting use to fewer hours of sleep a night, and often found herself staring at the ceiling well before the sun had even risen or in the middle of the night. Sighing miserably, she shoved the covers off and slid out of bed. A glass of milk and she’d be able to get some sleep.

Idly, she wondered where Sam was tonight and how he was fairing. She knew he could handle his own, but it had to be so weird for him to be on his own under the circumstances, when every instinct probably screamed for him to be by his brother’s side so they could look after each other like they always did.

Hearing a low voice talking, she paused on the steps, adrenaline kicking in and alert to every small noise and movement. Which was silly. Their house was filled with hunters and locked up tighter than Fort Knox. _Nothing_ could get in. She crept a few steps lower.

“…paperwork came for the girls, and from what I can tell the Prophet or whoever that sent it, sent us sigils to keep you hidden from the angels and demons alike,” she heard Dean explaining in a low voice. She crept further down until she coudl peek into the living room without being seen.

He was sitting cross-legged in the center of the foldout bed, Cas sitting opposite him against the cushions. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Was Cas aware?! Had he finally snapped out of it?

Dean continued talking, shuffling papers and holding different ones up to the former angel to examine. The angel didn’t move or acknowledge them, and Becky slumped in disappointment.

“We’d have to get them inked on you, of course,” Dean was explaining. “As soon as you decide to join the land of the living, you know, but, uh, I dunno man. I think this could keep you safe. You’d know just by looking at them if they would work, but that would require you actually talking to me.” There was a humorless chuckle. “Or maybe you just like being a kept man and having everyone wait on you hand and foot.” A pause. “What? Nothing? Thought that would get an eye twitch at least.”

Becky settled herself down on the steps, feeling as melancholy as Dean sounded. She knew they were all worried that Cas might never actually snap out of his current state, that that might be part of what had been done to him, other than his wings being ripped off. Maybe they had trapped him in his own mind as well and truly stripped him of his freedom.

She knew all angels weren’t bad, weren’t all dicks, but it seemed the overwhelming majority of them were.  How was it that none of his siblings were willing to stand by Cas, to even check on him after what he’d been through? Why were the only people standing by his side all pathetic little humans?

The living room was quiet for so long Becky peeked over at the men again to see if Dean had gone back to sleep and it would be safe for her to make her way into the kitchen. The hunter was still regarding the angel in front of him, leaning forward with his elbows on his bent knees.

“Y’know, uh,” Dean let out a nervous chuckle, and she watched curious as he shifted himself so he was sitting with his legs under him. “If you are in there and are aware, and well, aren’t okay with this, I’m gonna apologize right now, but dude, to get you back, I will exhaust every avenue, no matter how unlikely something is to actually work.” He leaned forward, one hand bracing his weight as the other came to run through Cas’ hair then cup the side of his face. “And if this _does_ work, you can’t tell Sam or we will never hear the end of it. Just tell him you snapped out of it on your own.” He leaned in closer and Becky held her breath, not daring to move, bottom lip clamped between her teeth as Dean hesitated again, his mouth a breath away from Cas’. “I really hope this works,” she barely heard him whisper before closing the minuscule space between them and kissing Cas.

She clamped both her hands over her mouth and bit down hard on her tongue to keep from making noise, toes curling and pulling herself into a tight ball in order to fight the urge to scream and cheer and punch air. This had to work! It _had_ to! And if it _did_ , OH. MY. GOD.

Several long moments passed, Dean pressing several more soft kisses to Cas’ mouth in the darkness, before a heavy sigh escaped him and he sat back, head falling forward in defeat.

“I guess not,” he murmured, then sighed again. “I figured it was a long shot to begin with.” The blonde slumped unhappily in her hiding spot again. She wanted a hug from Charlie now to combat her disappointment. “Cas, look. I know you’re in there, and that you can hear me. If you can snap out of this, I need you to. I know this sucks and must hurt something awful, what your siblings did to you. And maybe they took your wings, but you are still _you_ , and there’s nothing they can do to change that. You are better than any and all of them combined. Don’t let them beat you, don’t let _this_ beat you. I know how strong you are; stronger than me, for one. Cas, man, _I_ need you. You and me, we just… I need you with me, Cas. Always. …Please wake up.”

Becky silently crept back up the stairs and to her room. In the realm of things that were okay? This wasn’t one of them.

 

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bittersweet smile graced Sam face; he reached out with one long arm to flick the side of his brother’s head. “Yeah, alright. You’re a half-decent brother.”
> 
> “Damn right I am,” Dean grumbled. “Now eat your breakfast before I kick your ass.”

            The sun was at least up the next time Becky woke up, though she’d only gotten a few more ill-begotten hours of sleep. Sighing, she shoved the covers off once more and made her way downstairs, contemplating the benefits of foregoing tea and going straight for the coffee instead. She’d made her blind shuffle halfway through the living room when male laughter penetrated her sleep-addled brain, making her blink and look up, focusing on the three figures in the kitchen and trying to get her brain to compute it.

            Dean was cooking breakfast, spatula in one hand and dishrag over his shoulder, Sam was sitting perched on the cabinets, coffee in hand, and Cas was seated in a chair a faint smile curling his lips as the other two men continued chuckling over something Becky had missed.

            Sam noticed her first and murmured a soft greeting, causing a wave of self-consciousness to sweep over her, more so when Dean pivoted to greet her. She smiled timidly, dropping her gaze, and raking a hand through her hair in the hopes it wasn’t completely unmanageable at the moment. At least she was wearing pajamas that were respectable, a Captain America t-shirt and black Capri bottoms. It could have been something embarrassing, like… she paused, gaze focusing on her bunny clad feet.

            Never mind. This was embarrassing. Sighing, she made her way into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee. Screw it. She did not care. She refused to care. They’re opinion of her couldn’t go any lower, so she need not worry about her looks. Just be invisible as possible, say as little as possible, and try not to piss them off, she thought, pouring coffee into her Maleficent coffee mug.

            “Morning, Cas,” she greeted sleepily, patting the angel on the shoulder has she passed him. Despite the shadow of a smirk on his face, Castiel’s expression was still mostly vacant.

            Sam arched a brow at her. “You okay, Becky?”

            Taking a seat at the kitchen table, she blinked with a start, finally registering that Sam Winchester _was in her kitchen_.

            She started. “Sam!” she squeaked, blinking rapidly. “You’re here!” His eyebrow arched even higher and she waved a hand. “Sorry, slow going in the morning. When did you get here? Why are you here so soon?”

            Her words faltered as Charlie came downstairs, looking more haphazard than she did, dressed in an oversize shirt that nearly came to her knees, striped knee socks, and giant fuzzy monster feet. Becky cried out indignantly as Charlie swiped her coffee and downed it, before slamming it back down as if demanding another.

            Dean chuckled to himself, even as Becky rose from the table to fix a new cup of coffee and Charlie slid into her previous spot, head falling forward to the table.

            “I _hate_ mornings,” she moaned.

            The blonde fixed another cup of coffee for her best friend, and started a tea kettle for herself, before accepting the plate of French Toast Dean handed her, which she took with another blink of surprise before handing it and the coffee off to Charlie. She retrieved a yogurt from the fridge for herself, before turning to regard the younger Winchester.

            “Got in a couple of hours ago,” he explained. He slid a sideways glance at Dean and grinned. “Knew my big brother would be helpless without me around, so I came back early.”

            The elder man slapped him with the hand towel. “Shut up, I am no such thing. Your lack of faith in my abilities is staggering, Sam.” He scoffed. “You’re stunned I can handle being on my own, shocked I can cook, positively flabbergasted- shutup, I can use big words- when I get references to things like the Metatron that you don’t, and seriously, how do you confuse _the_ _Bible_ with _Transformers_?”

            “Well, Dean, you are severly co-dependant on me for everything-“

            “You shut your mouth! I _raised_ you, you ingrate! Hell, I took over as both mom and dad for you!” he snapped pointing the spatula once again. “Who changed your diapers and got you to sleep when you were fussy? Who taught you to ride a bike and bandaged your knees? Who _cooked_ for you and always remembered your birthday, cause it certainly wasn’t _Dad_.”

            A bittersweet smile graced Sam face; he reached out with one long arm to flick the side of his brother’s head. “Yeah, alright. You’re a half-decent brother.”

            “Damn right I am,” Dean grumbled. “Now eat your breakfast before I kick your ass.”

            When Sarah finally made her way downstairs, hair in two braids around her shoulders, and looking so adorable it was unfair, Becky watched as she fixed herself a cup of coffee as well, blinking a moment at Sam, perhaps not that he was there in the apartment, but more so because he was sitting in her usual perch on the counter. She wordlessly moved to sit next to him instead, hands curled around her coffee as they bumped shoulders and gave each other sly smiles.

            If Sarah weren’t her best friend, Becky would be sorely tempted to hate her a little bit. Or a lot. It wasn’t fair that she had such obvious chemistry with the younger Winchester, that two such amazing people would clearly be meant to be together.

            God, their kids would be gorgeous.

            Charlie reached over to pet her hair comfortingly when Becky whimpered into her tea.

            Seriously, though. Was it too much to ask for a her own happy ending already? Sarah would probably marry Sam; she knew they both still held a torch for the other and seeing them together it was even more obvious, and Charlie was sort of dating Gilda of the fairies, hell, even Dean and Cas were going to eventually end up together, even if they _were_ being agonizingly slow about it. And yet, there was Becky. Odd girl out. That old familiar feeling still hurt.

            It was days like today she _really_ missed Chuck, and wondered, not for the first time, why he had broken up with her. Was it because he’d seen his own fate? Getting swept off into Heaven?

            She had _really_ thought the Prophet could have been her happy ending. They were _happy_ together. They _worked_ , and this was _before_ she’d gotten the therapy she’d needed.

            She pulled away from Charlie’s affectionate touches and went to check the mail in case they had another case or information waiting for them.

            There was a letter addressed to her, instead, simple instructions that there was cursed book at the library she would need to commandeer and keep out of public hands. Which was great, actually. With the two cute not-yet-couples, and then committed-Charlie, suddenly Becky felt a pressing need for fresh air and alone time. She’d basically lived in the apartment since Dean had first brought Cas to them, she had earned a few hours away.

            Back inside, she wordlessly made her way back upstairs and got ready, trying to keep her mind occupied with the case in front of her, rather than the melancholy that had slipped over her. Granted, she was happy for her two best friends, and for Dean and Sam and Cas, she _was_. If anyone deserved happiness, it was those three, and well, definitely her own two best friends, so she didn’t begrudge them that in the least.

            Just old wounds were rearing their heads again, and even long ago hurts could still hurt anew years later.

            She came back down dressed in a white blouse with puffed sleeves, a gray pencil skirt, and heeled mary-janes. She smiled to herself when it actually garnered attention.

            Sam blinked. “Wow, Becky. You look nice. Morning date?”

            Shaking her head, she glanced at both the females. “Mm-hm. Gotta steal a book from the library.” She waggled a pair of angular black glasses, before sliding them on and peering at the girls through the non-prescription lens. “Glasses or no?”

            “Going as a research assistant?” Sarah questioned as Becky clipped an identification badge to her shirt. “Mm, yeah, take them, but put them on your head until you need them for reading.”

            She nodded, removing the glasses and sliding them onto her head, before adjusting the leather messenger bag she carried, pausing when she caught Dean’s eyes on her, considering.

            “What?” she asked, suddenly wary.

            He went back to washing the frying pan from breakfast. “Nothing. The blonde hair and glasses made me think of someone, though, frankly you’re a lot cuter and friendlier looking than Atropos was.” He regarded her again, gaze flicking over her form before his head angled to the side as he considered her. “You’re, like, an actual hunter and con-artist now, and you pull it off surprisingly well.”

            Sam scowled at his brother. “You do realize that was a backhanded compliment, right?”

            The older man looked confused. “What? I’m saying she looks cute and the part! I just never would have taken her for the type that could do this life.” His gaze swept over all three females. “Never wanted this for any of you, actually.”

            Having all of her things, Becky paused to kiss the top of Cas’ head as she left, one hand squeezing his shoulder. “Once again, you are underestimating the female sex, Dean Winchester.”

            “I’m not underestimating you,” he said seriously, making her pause half way out the door and glance back. “I know women can do the job, just like women can be soldiers, I just don’t think they should have to unless they just want to. No one should.” He broke eye contact, fiddling with the dishcloth again. “And it’s our fault you’re in this life now.”

            “It is your fault,” she said, watching the way he flinched at her words. “It’s your fault I’m happier now than I was before. I owe you a bottle of Jack Daniels as thanks, Dean, so stop your moping. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go commit a Federal offense.”

~*~

            Having recalled the books she needed from the stacks, Becky sat down at a research table in the far back corner of the library with a stack of other books as well, feigning her research for a while, when really all she was doing was avoiding going back home for a while.

            Carefully, she removed the book she’d been sent to steal from it’s black casing, frowning in puzzlement at the brown leather book with gold gilded pages. The cover was soft and pliant, like that of a personal journal rather than… well, she didn’t actually know what the book was. The letter just told her what it was called, the call number, and that she needed to steal it.

            Setting the black container aside, she opened and arranged two other books and a notebook as part of the ruse, before opening the… address book? Becky frowned at the pages in front of her, closed the book to regard the cover and spine, then opened it again. The page she was looking at was definitely addresses.  She flipped through the pages, feeling more sure there wasn’t a mistake as she saw drawings and diagrams and sigils and words in languages she didn’t understand. It was all hand-written, penned in black ink with amazing detail and accuracy to the drawings, neat tidy lists of ingredients for… what? Spells? Summonings? What the hell? Was she looking at a recipe for apple pie?

            Once again, she checked the book, making sure someone hadn’t removed the cover of the book and replaced the actual book with something else, like she was planning to do. No, there were definitely pages upon pages of things dealing with the supernatural, but there were also completely normal things as well, like, recipes written down. Which seemed strange and out of place. Unless it was in code, though how a recipe for apple pie was secretly some kind of code, she had no idea, but she could think of no reason someone would make a book multifunction as a address book, grimoire, and recipe collection. At least, she thought it was a grimoire or something, it didn’t have the typical evil-witch vibe and mad scrawls. It actually talked about angels a lot, from what she could tell of the diagrams and sketches, anyway.

            So absorbed and confused by the book in front of her, Becky didn’t even notice the person sliding into the seat opposite her at the table until they spoke.

            “You found it,” a soft male voice stated, a smile to his tone.

            She looked up in surprise to find blue-gray eyes watching her, a soft mouth curled into a half shy smile. The blond across the table was wearing a while polo shirt and red ball cap, smiling like they’d been planning to meet.

            “I’m sorry…?” she ventured, terribly confused. Shit. Was this an actual professor’s real research assistant and someone else had come for the book as well? She plastered on her friendliest smile. “Did you come to study the book as well? I’m afraid I will be a little while with it-“

            “I’m the one who sent you, Becky,” he told her, looking down and chuckling, self-depreciating and… embarrassed? As she watched him, he cautiously glanced back up at her tongue darting out over his lips, she noted he was definitely turning a faint hue of pink across his freckled cheeks. “I-I’m Saman-“ He faltered and chuckled again, reaching out to offer her his hand. “Call me Alfie, everyone else does for the most part.”

            She gasped loudly, throwing herself back in her seat so hard, she nearly toppled backward, then she was shooting forward to take his hand in both of hers. “Oh my gawd!” she exclaimed, earning her a sharp hush from somewhere nearby, and causing the corners of the angel’s mouth to wobble in his attempt to keep from laughing. “Ohmigawd!” she said again, much softer. “You were dead,” she informed him. “You _are_ dead! How are you not dead? Cas unintentionally killed you and took your body home!”

            Realizing she was still enthusiastically shaking his hand with both of hers, she let go suddenly, shoving her hands under her legs and clamping down on her bottom lip, feeling a blush creep up her neck and hoping to God she didn’t scare him off or embarrass herself further. He was smiling at her in fond amusement, making her grin back in return. Yeah, she liked this angel, he so clearly took more after Cas than the other angels.

            The blond man nodded. “You’re right, he did, _I_ did, but uh…” He glanced cautiously around, before leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially, “I’m sure you’ve learned from the Winchesters, some people, for whatever reason, can’t seem to _stay_ dead.” He sat back, gaze lowered, and bashfully chances glances at her. “Uh, unlike my brother, I didn’t come back the way I was.” He let out a nervous chuckle, not quite meeting her curious gaze. “I’m, uh, human now…”

Her eyes widened in surprise, brows rising to almost meet her hair line. “Seriously?”

He nodded, waving a hand. “The real Alfie has, of course, moved on, so it’s just me in here, but I was still brought back for a purpose.”

“You’re the one sending us hunts,” she said, pieces clicking into place as he nodded. She gasped, hand covering her mouth, before leaning forward to whisper, “You’re the new prophet!”

He smiled and gave a little wave. “Guilty. I died and woke up a human prophet.” He shrugged. “I can only surmise it’s the work of my Father because none of the angels have tracked me down yet, and what I’m doing is to help the Winchesters rather than Naomi.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Though, keeping up with visions of both your lives and theirs? Not easy.”

Suddenly, Becky was shoving the book in front of her into her bag and replacing it with a similar volume in the black container, placing all the other books into a stack before rising to her feet. The former angel was regarding her in puzzlement, glancing around as if to see what he’d missed.

“C’mon,” she told him, grabbing the container to return to the front. “You’re coming with me.”

His eyebrows disappeared beneath the bib of his cap. “What?”

“You. Home. With me. Now,” she enunciated, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him from the chair and after her. Samandriel let out a squawk of surprise as his footing fumbled and he staggered after her.

Then he was righting himself, half-heartedly trying to pull his hand from her grip. “What? No. I can’t! I just wanted to meet you-“

She shoved the black container at the librarian, smiling brilliantly. “We’re finished. You can have it back. We’ll call on it again if we need anything else.” She turned and continued to pulled the resurrected angel behind her by the hand. “Don’t go backing down now, Alfie. You’re already involved and there are plenty of things going on right now I’m sure you can help with.”

~*~

Dean paled like he’d seen a ghost and swore a blue streak when Becky got back to the apartment with Alfie in tow. The angel had stopped trying to fight her, sighing resignedly as they continued to walk hand-in-hand back to her apartment. Even if he couldn’t literally fly off, Becky knew if he took off running, she’d lose chase in the skirt and shoes she was wearing, so she refused to release him, talking amiably as they walked to the apartment.

Slow realization had dawned on Sam’s face, then shock as he regarded his brother as far as how to react.

“You know how God works in mysterious ways and all that?” Becky asked no one in particular. She gave Alfie’s hand a light squeeze before she let go and shoved him forward further into the apartment. “Guess who’s a prophet of the Lord now.”

A blush was already creeping up the angel’s neck with all the eyes suddenly focused on him. When Dean moved, it wasn’t towards the newcomer, but to coax Cas from his position seated on the couch.

Becky grinned. Oh yes, she had definitely done a good thing bringing baby brother home with her. Even if Cas couldn’t respond, he still-

Complete silence fell over the entire apartment as Castiel took a step toward Samandriel on his own. Becky blindly reached out and latched onto Charlie’s arm, squeezing tightly, but terrified to make a sound as they all watched the recognition and awe flicker over Castiel’s face, five sets of eyes tracking the movement of Cas’ arm as he reached out, one hand coming up to cup the side of the angel’s jaw.

“You’re alive,” croaked Cas, voice rough from weeks of disuse. He looked so in awe of his sibling.

Hearing the angel speak, Dean wiped a hand over his face, blinking rapidly and glancing away, moving as though to give them privacy. Becky had a feeling Dean was more focused on trying to compose himself.

The corner of Alfie’s mouth wobbled in a smile. “I never expected you to be the one to come save me.”

Castiel’s hand fell away, his expression falling. “I _didn’t_ save you.”

The younger man ducked his head to try and meet Cas’ gaze again, waiting until he had it before speaking. “You did, Castiel, you just didn’t know it. You set me free.”

Becky’s cheeks hurts from how widely she was grinning, watching the two brother’s reunion, then as Cas stepped back closer to Dean, one hand blindly reaching out for the hunter as he sighed tiredly, his sudden weariness sending Dean straight into protective mode.

“Cas? You okay?” His free hand came up to hover awkwardly near the angel’s shoulder before pulling back. His other hand was clasped in Castiel’s, perhaps it had become a habit for the angel in the time since he’d been there, the familiar warmth of someone taking him by the hand to lead him.

“I am… tired.” He frowned. “And stiff.” He experimentally rotated one of his shoulders.

Sarah regarded him, head angled to the side. “Cas, why don’t you go upstairs and lay down,” she offered.

The angel appeared to consider this, head turning to regard the stairs dubiously, like he wasn’t sure he could climb them. Beside him, a steady blush was creeping up Dean’s neck and across his cheeks, body angled awkwardly and though trying to give the man beside him space even while the angel held onto his hand.

Dean coughed lightly into his free hand and led Cas towards the stairs, slowing his gait when Cas moved jerkily and stiffly. “C’mon man. It’s only a few steps.”

He faltered when Cas came to a dead stop at the foot of the stairs, pivoting to regard the girls, each in turn. “Thank you.” When he turned back, Dean gave him a warm smile and they slowly made their way up the stairs, Dean softly asking Cas if he had any injuries internally and what could he do to help Cas.

Dean _didn’t_ come back down the stairs after helping get Cas to bed.

The rest of them sat around the dining room table with the book Samandriel had sent Becky to steal from the library, the angel explaining what little he did know about the book. The addresses were that of people that would prove vital allies in the war between Heaven and Hell, an army that was to be built to help the Winchesters in their seemingly never ending battle to keep Heaven and Hell from gaining control of earth.

The rest of the book was a study in angels, almost poetic in it’s observations and descriptions, like an observer marveling over a work of art, but in such a way, it led them all to believe the author was talking about a very real being with wings. Perhaps a fallen angel of some sort? And angel-human hybrid? A bird-human hybrid to look like an angel? Maybe an alternate design of angel? Where their wings were, in fact, physically manifested?

The book spoke of Heaven, but not the Heaven the way Alfie described it, more like, the way Heaven was going to be in the future, which the Bible did speak of, that there would be a new Heaven and new Earth, after Satan and Hell were locked away forever.

“Does this mean that if we close the gates to Hell,” began Sam, “that we are essentially ending the world ourselves?”

The young angel shook his head. “No, the new Heaven and new Earth come after the End Times. The _real_ End Times, not the one my siblings tried to start. That one, God himself will announce the start of and no one will be able to stop it. The wicked will be cast down, the saved will be spared, the anti-Christ will rule for a period of time, and then be cast back into the cage once again.”

“Pretty sure we covered that ‘Lucifer walks free, then gets tossed’ part,” Sam pointed out. “I can vouch for that.”

A wry smile passed Alfie face. “I assure you, when the real Apocalypse happens… you’ll know. That, frankly, didn’t count as a half-hearted attempt. My siblings were trying to force something that it wasn’t time for.”

“Then we’ll stop that one, too.”

The angel shook his head. “Sam, when the trumpet sounds? You won’t be on earth anymore to stop it. The Apocalypse is a time period to purge the earth and give those who are not yet saved a chance to be saved, it’s their final chance and many will still refuse to take it, and then will be cast down. Those who give into fear rather than hang on to faith.” He shrugged. “It’ll happen in the blink of a eye for you, then everything will be made new and life will start again.”

~*~

Sam, Dean, and Cas left the next morning. Don and Maggie came by to see them one last time before they left. Maggie brought a new herbal tea mixture for Cas to help with the stiffness he was feeling, the sensation brought on by having his grace ripped apart until it was small enough to be a soul in a body instead, the fragments doing their best to mend themselves together, and millennia of memories and knowledge was whittled down to what the human mind could safely contain.

The day before, the angel and hunter had spent a better portion of the day curled together and fast asleep in Charlie’s room. Everyone made a point not to say anything, but Becky noticed they all kept biting back pleased and amused grins.

After the trio was gone, the girls and Alfie got to work on gathering the army the journal told them about. Almost everyone in the book actually lived in one of the worlds parallel to their own. It took the Djinn and more than a few favors called in to the witches they knew in order to gather all the forces.

There were more than a few moments of chaos. Like, when the Djinn stepped back through into their reality with a dark haired woman in tow, and all three female hunters immediately readied their weapons at her. The heavily inked man released her and stepped away. He’d retrieved her, if they wanted to kill her, well that was on them.

“Meg?” all three women accused.

The woman arched a brow, hands raised in submission. “I guess I’m back in Oz,” she drawled. “Over in Kansas, people keep calling me Rachel.”

“WTF, you guys?” questioned Charlie, gaze sliding over to the blond angel with them. “Um, Alfie? Please tell me you know something.”

The blond stepped closer to the demon, regarding her curiously. “You’re human, too.”

Meg sighed. “Imagine my surprise. Last thing I remembered was Crowley killing me, next thing I know, I’m waking up in a hospital, everyone is calling me Rachel Miner, and telling me I was in a car accident and how lucky I am to have survived.”

“So then, where’s the real Rachel?”

Meg arched a brow. “Apparently, we died at the same time. She went wherever she went, I went in her body, now are you going to lower your weapons or are you going to kill me? I’m quite curious what will happen if I die in this world again.” They lowered their weapons and she lowered her hands, glancing toward where the Djinn had made his exit. “Rune boy there tells me you’re trying to stop a war?”

~*~

Being that Samandriel was now a prophet, they knew well in advance what was coming, given how much time he spent with Becky and the others. Mainly Becky.

Maybe she had a thing for prophets, or writers, or the adorably awkward, but whatever it was, she definitely had a thing for him. Best part was, he seemed to have a thing for her, if all the shy glances, stammering, and blushing were anything to go by. Which, truth be told, always turned her into a giggling happy mess as soon as she was safely alone to squeal in joy about it, which being that he was a prophet who followed her life, he probably knew anyway, but he never brought it up, so that was good.

Back to the point. When Naomi appeared in the center of living room of the hunters’ apartment without preamble, Balthazar already had the match lit to drop on the ring of Holy Oil Anna had laid down. He dropped it the moment she appeared, standing behind her where she couldn’t see him.

The angel’s face did a strange number of miniscule changes before a carefully crafted mask slid into place like things were going the way she planned them. Gabriel was standing off to the side with a banishing sigil waiting for the end of the conversation.

“Hello,” Charlie greeted, head angled to one side, angel blade tapping against her denim clad thigh. “You must be Naomi.” Her voice was deceptively pleasant.

The woman smoothed her hands over the front of her business suit and offered a smile. “You would be Charlie, then?”

The red head motioned to all the people standing around the room: hunters, witches, werewolves, former angels and demons now made human. There were even two hellhounds in the room under Maggie and Don’s control. “I’m pretty sure you know who we all are, so no need for introductions and false pleasantries.”

“Yes, there are far better ways to be tortured,” Meg interjected. Beside her, Ruby nodded her agreement.

Becky shifted her weight. “How may we help you?” She tried _really_ hard not to feel smug at the fact that Naomi was pretty much screwed if they chose to kill her. Which, unfortunately, was not the plan. Alfie was the Prophet though, he saw the future, not them.

Naomi finally saw the angel she’d had Castiel kill months earlier, blinking as she regarded him. Becky slipped her hand in his and squeezed.

“Samandriel,” the higher-ranking angel said smoothly. “This is a surprise.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Only for you.”

Her expression hardened, and Becky really fought back a smile, because seriously, this was just the beginning of a series of bad days Naomi was going to have.

“Where are the Winchesters?” Naomi demanded.

Sarah smiled pleasantly, eye lashes fluttering. “I’m sorry, ma’am, can you be more specific? Which Winchester: Dean, Sam, or Cas?”

“Castiel is not a Winchester-“

“We all beg to differ,” interrupted Balthazar, leaning against the bar in the kitchen. “The Winchester brothers themselves would also take offense to such an accusation.”

“Damn rude, you ask me,” agreed Gabriel, a twist of amusement to his mouth.

“I only wish to speak to Dean,” state Naomi tersely.

“You will,” Alfie assured his former superior. “But not today,” he amended as she regarded him.

Charlie clicked her tongue. “Though after what you put Cas through? Lady, you’ve got a death wish if you put yourself on the same continent as Dean Winchester.”

Meg scoffed. “You’ve got a death wish if you messed with Clarence period.”

“More like she has a death wish if she did anything to piss off the Winchesters at all,” Ruby corrected. Several of the others chuckled.

“I mean him no harm,” Naomi insisted, still maintaining the air of diplomacy. “I simply wish to talk.”

“Oh, you mean him harm, if all the brainwashing you did to Cas is anything to go by,” snapped Becky furiously, feeling her hackles rise at the memory of what Dean told them Naomi had put them through.

Patient demeanor cracking, Naomi regarded the faces that surrounded her. “Then if you won’t allow me to speak with him, why am I still here?”

A dark grin stretched across Becky’s face. “Rules of Engagement. We thought it only fair to warn you that you’d pissed off the sleeping giant, is all.”

Charlie nodded. “Because, see, what you don’t seem to understand is that your war isn’t with the Winchesters. Well, not just with the Winchesters, anyway.”

“Every army has its Generals,” supplied Sarah demurely.

Again, Charlie nodded. “Way we see it? When you get your ass kicked? And you _will_. You’ll have brought it on yourself.”

“Crowley, too,” Becky and Meg said.

“Heaven and Hell started this war,” stated Samandriel, a smile gracing his youthful face. “We plan to finish it.”

The curl of Meg’s mouth became more pronounced. “Even demons run when a good man goes to war.”

“Halle-fucking-lujah,” laughed Gabriel, slamming his hand over the bloody banishing sigil.

Okay, so maybe the entirety of it was simply to put that stab of fear in Naomi’s heart. Maybe, in their own way, letting her know she had well and truly screwed up by messing with Cas was their way of seeking justice for him, and for the Winchesters.

This was something Heaven, Hell, and even the Winchesters never quite seemed to grasp: their battles weren’t just their own, and they no longer fought them alone. Maybe the odds still weren’t in their favor, but they still had people willing to stand and fight beside them now, they had people to watch their backs and to take them in when they were in trouble.

They had allies.

They had friends.

They had family.

They had inspired an army, and that army was ready for war.

Heaven and Hell were in _so_ much trouble.

 

End.


End file.
